White and Black Make Red
by Mizu Iruka
Summary: Tag to Bloodlust, Unseen 'verse. Funny, how Sam's the blind one, yet he's the only one to really see things on the hunt.


**White and Black Make Red**

_Part of a 'verse where Sam was blinded on a hunt at the age of 13. Most other details remain the same. _

* * *

"You see him?" Sam whispered.

Dean almost nodded before remembering that wouldn't work—for all the many years he'd spent alongside his brother, it sometimes slipped his mind, though he blamed that on Sam's ability to get around like anyone else. "Yeah," he hissed back. "He's going after the vamp."

Sam touched Dean's elbow. "Couldn't we just leave him to it?"

"C'mon, Sammy, I haven't had a good hunt in a long time. Look, if he takes care of this one no problem, we'll head out, kay?"

"Sure," Sam muttered, but Dean's attention was already back on Gordon.

"He's in trouble. C'mon," Dean growled, springing forward and yanking the vampire away from the hunter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam finding Gordon and pushing him back as well. And then Dean allowed himself to focus on the fight, trading blows with the vamp until he managed to get clear and get it prone beneath some kind of construction saw.

As he cut off the vamp's head, he saw Sam's disquieted expression. Probably at the disgusting noise.

"Guess I owe you that drink," Gordon said in the silence.

Sam strode forward to Dean, who flinched back, expecting a speech about brutality and hunting, but Sam just patted him over, checking for wounds. His hands hesitated on Dean's face, where Dean could feel the flecks of vampire blood.

All Sam said was a quiet, "you need to get cleaned up," but somehow Dean still felt off and wrong.

Later, at the bar, Gordon was swapping stories with Dean, and Dean couldn't help but flick his gaze over to his little brother every few minutes. Sam didn't look unhappy, just a little . . . disapproving.

"What's your problem, Sammy?" Gordon pushed, and Sam's face darkened.

"Only he gets to call me that," he growled, tipping his head in Dean's direction.

Gordon quickly made apologies, and the conversation continued, but then Sam stood.

"I'm headed back to the motel," he announced.

"Oh," Dean said, taken aback. "Uh, wait, I gotta go to the bathroom, and . . ."

"No, you can stay. I won't bring you two down."

Dean stared. "It's quite a walk, Sammy."

Sam shrugged, already pulling on his jacket and grabbing his cane. "I can manage."

Dean frowned, "Sam, you sure?"

"Yeah." And Sam was out the door of the bar.

"Pretty confident, for a blind man," Gordon commented, and Dean felt his hackles rising.

"You were pretty confident, going after that one vamp," he returned sharply.

Gordon raised his hands. "No offense, meant. Just admiring. Not many hunters would hang around a guy with a disability like that—"

Dean nearly growled, but Gordon finished, "—but I can see that Sam can take care of himself.

"Yeah, he can," Dean replied grudgingly.

The night dragged on, Dean drinking a little more than he probably should've. The stories finally grew personal, Gordon admitting how he started hunting because of the death of his sister.

Gordon paused before leaning forward. "I heard about your dad, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean stiffened, but managed not to shut down like he did when Sam brought John up. "Yeah, you know . . . I just always thought he was indestructible, and then he's gone. Can't talk about it around Sammy, gotta keep my game face on."

Gordon tilted his head. "Game voice?"

Dean laughed, but oddly felt that if he weren't so drunk, he wouldn't've laughed. "Yeah, but truth is, I'm not handling it so well."

Any unease he had was smothered by Gordon's understanding and sympathy.

"No room for grey in this job, Dean-o. Black and white. That's what works."

"Not sure Sammy would agree with you—" Dean started.

"Well, doesn't seem like he's much like us, does he?"

Dean bit his lip.

* * *

Sam counted, timing himself as soon as they passed over a bridge. He didn't know the layout of the town, but he was hoping that after—if—he escaped, Dean could figure out where the nest was.

After quite a few turns, Sam found himself yanked out of the car by his shoulder, even as he worked at his cuffs.

"What do you want?" he snarled, hoping the answer wasn't 'your blood.'

"Lenore wants to speak to you," the one on his left said gruffly.

Sam waited a few seconds as they walked and then lashed out with a kick, catching one of his captors by the knee, judging by the way the limb crumpled under his attack.

The other one shouted and grabbed Sam's hair. Sam tried to throw his head back and donkey kick, but to no avail.

"Wish we could kill him," the other grunted.

"Any other moves like that, and we will," the one holding his hair threatened, pulling at Sam's head painfully.

"We need to talk." The voice was female, and Sam tried on a sneer.

"Yeah. Talk before you eat me? Thanks, but no."

"We haven't killed anyone. If you hadn't struggled when they found you on the street, we would not have hurt you."

"That doesn't make sense. You need human blood to survive," Sam growled.

"We found another solution." A soft hand on his cheek made Sam start. "Cattle blood. You don't need to hunt us."

Sam swallowed, positive his face was revealing his fear but unable to do anything about it. "Why would I believe you?"

The vampire stepped back, and Sam heard her move away. "Because we're letting you go."

* * *

Sam found himself shoved out of a van after the trip back, at the motel, left at the door and took in a couple deep gasps before letting himself in.

"Sam, where were you?"

He could sense that there was a second person in the room and figured it was Gordon.

"Dean, could I talk to you alone?"

Dean's hesitation meant that he was exchanging a glance with Gordon and Sam clenched his teeth together. No, he wasn't jealous. Not at all.

As soon as they left the room, Sam explained the nest, and how they should leave it alone, but Dean was being annoyingly stubborn and defending Gordon, and Sam found all of his frustration and past issues rising to the surface.

"You put on this big fake show of dealing, Dean. And hey, I may not be able to see you, but I sure know you. And you're struggling, okay? But you can't replace Dad with this guy," he spat, "it's an insult to his memory."

There was a frightening pause, and then without warning, Sam felt a hard blow in his face. He stumbled and fell, hands scratched by the pavement.

Dean had never punched him. In sparring, sure, but not with intent, and Sam felt the rift between them that had started with John's death grow even wider.

"Hitting me won't change anything," he said lowly.

The scrape of pavement meant that Dean was turning on his heel, and Sam scrambled to find his cane before Dean left.

Dean's voice filtered back from the room. "Gordon's gone."

"The nest," Sam surmised, finally finding his cane a few feet away from where he had fallen. He probably looked ridiculous, searching on his hands and knees for it and quickly got to his feet. "We have to stop him."

Dean's voice was hard. "Really, Sam? I'm thinking we should lend a hand."

Sam snarled, "Give me the benefit of the doubt, here, Dean. You owe me that."

Funny, he had never had to use that phrase on his brother before. Had never wanted to, but things had broken and snapped between them.

And Sam wasn't sure he could fix it.

* * *

Things were falling to pieces around Dean's ears.

"You keep your hands off of him," he snarled, even as Gordon tilted Sam's forearm above the vampire Lenore.

"Watch," Gordon said, and Dean was appalled that he hadn't noticed the fanatical gleam in the man's eyes before.

Dean cursed as Gordon drew his knife across Sam's arm. Sam jolted, not out of pain, Dean knew, but out of shock.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked sharply.

"Proving a point." The blood from Sam's arm dripped onto Lenore's face, causing the vampire to hiss and her teeth to come down.

"See?"

"No, I don't," Sam snarled at Gordon. "Since I'm blind."

As Dean watched, Lenore started resisting the temptation, pulling her teeth back and mumbling "no."

"It's just a trick," Gordon snarled, but Dean had had enough of the hunter standing with a knife near his brother.

"Sorry," he apologized, somewhat sincerely. Then he shot Gordon in the leg. The hunter dropped with a howl.

"C'mon, Sam." Dean strode forward, pulling Sam close. He cut Lenore's bonds with a flick of his knife, leaving the vampire staring at him and gasping slightly.

"Lenore?" Sam questioned.

"Sam, carry her," Dean commanded. "I'll take care of Gordon." He kept it simple, handcuffing Gordon and tying off his leg wound. Behind him, Sam gathered Lenore into his arms. "Let's get out of here," Dean said decisively.

* * *

Their botched hunt was over. Finally. Dean wasn't sure where things stood, now, but he did know that he was even more unsettled than before.

"Hey. Sam. Clock me one."

Sam turned, cane knocking against Dean's boot. "What?"

"I won't even hit you back. Freebie."

Sam's face was a mixture of sorrow and exasperation. "Dude, I'm not gonna hit you."

"Why not?"

Sam turned away, swinging his cane until he found the car. "Because."

Dean hurried forward and grabbed Sam's shoulder. "Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Did Gordon hit you on the head? Because you never apologize."

Dean wanted to take his hand away, but made himself stay still. "Well, I am."

Sam sighed. "It's fine, Dean. To be honest, I'm surprised this is the first time you've ever hit me."

He blinked. "Why?"

His little brother grinned. "Cuz I'm just that annoying."

Dean shoved Sam gently. "Yeah you are. Let's get out of here, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean would fix this. He would.

* * *

**A/N:** Mmm angst. Admittedly this was one of the hardest sections to write, mostly because I was trying to stay mostly true to the episode. My favorite ones are where I can go completely off the rails. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you thought!


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